


Touchstones

by SuburbanSun



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Malex Week 2020, Memories of the Lost Decade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: During all their years spent apart, they both had things that made them think of home. A month into their new relationship, Michael takes Alex for a ride out to the desert to show him one.Malex Week 2020 Day 1: somewhere only we know
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 42
Kudos: 149





	Touchstones

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Malex Week 2020 Day 1: somewhere only we know

“You can admit it, you know?”

Michael huffed a laugh, shifting his gaze to the side to get a sly look at Alex as he lounged in the passenger seat of the truck, loose and relaxed and beautiful as ever. “Admit what?”

Alex shrugged, a fond, mischievous twinkle in his eye that sent an age-old thrill up Michael’s spine. “That we’re lost.”

“We’re _not_ —”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.” He tilted his head back against the headrest and smirked. “It happens to lots of guys.” 

Michael groaned, then pulled the truck off the barren stretch of road onto the shoulder, shutting off the engine with a dramatic flair. He rested his arm along the seat back and leaned in close, and he didn’t miss the way Alex leaned in too, just a little, like he couldn’t help himself. “Not to me, baby,” he murmured, then turned in his seat and climbed out of the truck, letting the door swing shut behind him like a punctuation mark. 

Alex followed, but Michael was already yards away, stalking down the shoulder with great concentration. He squinted at each fence post he passed, his frown deepening as he walked. 

“What’d you bring me out here to see, anyway? Ranch land?” Alex ambled along, unhurried, an amused smile still playing at his lips. “It’s a little early in the evening for stargazing. And we left the blankets in the back of the truck.” 

“Let’s see…” Michael muttered to himself, ignoring Alex’s running commentary in favor of surveying the angled top of each fence post. “It’s here somewhere…” Then, finally: “Found it!” He stopped in the middle of the grass to let Alex catch up.

“What—” He heard Alex suck in a quiet breath. “Is that…”

“Yeah.” Michael rubbed at the side of his jaw, suddenly feeling nervous as he looked over at Alex. He was pretty sure he had no reason to be— they’d been together, finally really together, for nearly a month: almost 30 days of waking up to bask in the way the sun glinted off Alex’s hair in the late morning light, the way he snuffled against his pillow as he gradually left sleep behind. The way they whispered promises against each other’s skin long into the afternoon, mumbled words of _mine_ and _yours_ and _forever_. 

No, Michael thought, as a warmth crept up and settled in his chest that had nothing to do with the golden-hour sun—he had no reason to be nervous.

He followed Alex’s gaze to the fence post they’d stopped in front of, to the simple block letters carved lightly into the wood. _MG + AM._

“I almost forgot about this,” Alex said softly, reaching out to run one reverent fingertip over the carving. He looked back up at Michael. “Almost. That was a nice night.” 

Michael let out a low whistle. “It sure was,” he said lasciviously, remembering how they’d spent half of it in the back of his truck, parked far away from everyone and everything, the desert sky the only witness to the way they moved together. 

Alex laughed. “Well, _that_ part was definitely nice. Obviously. But this part, too.” He nodded to the carving, and Michael’s memory rewound to earlier in the evening, when they’d pulled over along the side of the road to look at the stars. How Alex had gazed up at them wistfully and said he wished he could have something to remember the night by. How Michael had reached over and pulled the pocketknife out of his glove box, hopped out and written their initials on the nearest fence post, clear as the night sky.

“How’d you find it?” Alex asked, dragging Michael from his memories. “I mean, this fencing goes on for miles. I remember it was near here, but I’m not sure I could have picked it out of a lineup.”

Michael swallowed, cleared his throat. “See how the tip of this one’s worn down like that?” he asked, gesturing toward the post.

“Yeah.” Alex furrowed his brow. “It’s a little more rounded than the others. Is that why you picked it?” 

“Nah,” Michael said. He sucked in a breath, then walked the few steps forward to lean both elbows on the fence next to their post. Alex matched his movements, and the warmth of their arms pressed up against each other spurred Michael to go on. “Used to come out here every so often over the years. When you were gone. Usually when you were overseas, but sometimes when you were just… not here.” He shrugged. “I’d look up at the stars, and— and think about where you might be, and if you were okay, and all that cheesy shit.” 

Alex chuckled, but Michael could hear the emotion behind it. He nudged him with his shoulder.

“Anyway, so I guess I’d kind of run my hand back and forth over the top of our post over and over without thinking about it, some kinda nervous habit or something. And eventually, I noticed it looked like this.” Michael glanced over at Alex out of the corner of his eye. “A little worn down, but still standing.” 

Alex’s dark eyes were warm and just a little bit misty, and he blinked a few times. “I, uh. May have had something like that, too.”

“Yeah?”

Michael watched him reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. From between the folds, he plucked out a little piece of blue plastic and held it up pinched between his thumb and index finger— a guitar pick. 

“I’m honestly not even sure if it was one of mine or one of yours,” Alex said. “But I couldn’t take much with me when I left for basic, and this was something easy to keep on me. And sometimes I would take it out and fiddle with it. And think about— think about you.” Alex was looking down at the pick in his hand, but Michael could see a faint blush on his cheeks. “See the edges?” He held it up, then placed it in Michael’s open palm. “It’s a little worn down, too.” 

Michael closed his hand around the pick, letting out a long, shuddering breath. He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Alex’s shoulder, then rested his forehead there for one long, grounding moment before looking back up, turning to face Alex with a slow smile. “Bet it still makes good music.” 

Alex grinned, bright and free. “I bet it does.” 

“Care to find out?” Michael asked, nodding to the truck a couple dozen yards away, and the pair of guitars tucked into the bed of it next to a pile of blankets. 

“Always.” 

The sun sank toward the horizon as they drove further out into the desert, and beneath an open sky, they played notes and chords that sounded like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on tumblr? I'm [unbreakablejemmasimmons](https://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/) over there!


End file.
